


Headin' Down the Atlanta Highway

by fandomfrolics



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon)
Genre: First Kiss, Humor, M/M, Road Trips, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 14:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13078548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfrolics/pseuds/fandomfrolics
Summary: Tony and Steve are tricked into taking a road trip together. Cue lots of UST in a moving, compact space.





	Headin' Down the Atlanta Highway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PannaNat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PannaNat/gifts).



> The song title comes from B-52s 'Love Shack', which might lead you to believe that this fic is smuttier than it actually is. Sorry about that.
> 
> Written off a prompt for PannaNat. Hope you like it!

Tony squinted at Falcon from behind his sunglasses, arms folded across his chest. “Tell me again why we can’t fly?”

“He already told you about 16 times, Tony,” Steve’s voice drifted over. Tony turned his head to see Steve stepping out the main door with a duffel hanging from one hand. He swung it over his shoulder, his bicep bulging through his tight shirt. “Makes the kid nervous. She won’t come back with us.”

Tony threw up his hands. “Still doesn’t explain why we can’t fly _there_ and _then_ drive back.”

Steve pulled to a stop in front of him and turned a pointed look on the open trunk, chock-full of patent-pending Stark tech. “I really don’t think most of that would make it through airport security.” He tossed his duffel on top of the mess and turned his attention to the matching three-piece suitcase set on the ground. After a few seconds of taking it all in he turned his gaze on Tony, his mouth open. Tony raised a challenging eyebrow in return. Steve just rolled his eyes and spun on his heel towards Falcon, who was watching them with a grin.

“Where’re the others, Falcon?” Steve asked while Tony started loading up the back seat. “We need to get a move on, we’re wasting sunlight.”

“Er, about that…”

Tony froze, largest suitcase mid-air, and pinned Falcon with a hard glare. “About that what?” he said.

“Well, you see, we were talking and Widow said it might spook her if we _all_ went and Hawkeye didn’t think--”

“Does he ever?”

“Shut up Tony. So what, _no one_ else is coming?”

“Hey wait, does that mean I don’t have to go either?”

Falcon shook his head frantically. “No, no you should definitely still go!”

Tony plopped the suitcase back down on the ground. “I thought the whole point was to have a team-bonding road trip. No team, no bonding, no road trip! Steve, you can handle this on your own right?”

“I really think two of you should go. Widow said it would be best if the two of you went.”

“Uh huh. Widow said that did she? And just where is Widow with all her infinite wisdom?”

“She’s, er...well she...”

“What’s the matter, Tony?” Steve cut in. “Can’t handle sitting in a regular vehicle for that long?”

“ _First_ of all, yes, of course I can. Psh, no problem, I can sit anywhere for any amount of time. And second, _regular_? How dare you? Do you really think I would leave any piece of tech owned by me or the team completely unmodified? You are in for some surprises on this trip, my friend.”

Steve crossed his arms across his chest. “So you’re in?”

“I am in. I am the most in. I am as in as it gets. You won’t find anybody as in as me.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Shut up. Let’s go.”

“Great. But not before you ditch two of those suitcases.”

Throughout it all, Falcon beamed, which probably should’ve been the first warning sign.

\--

“...that’s right, any channel from any tower anywhere in the world. Sirius XM eat your heart out.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate what a technological feat this is,” Steve said in a way that implied the complete opposite, “but did you really feel that picking up a station that only broadcasts Mongolian throat-singing was strictly necessary?”

“Oh not just necessary, my roided friend, but vital! Just think, what if we were ever handed a vessel armed with a hidden clue to prevent our doom and upon opening it, discovered it only made a strange noise we couldn’t interpret? At least we’d be one sound closer to figuring out what it is.”

Steve took his eyes off the road long enough to shoot him a ~look~. “You’ve been rereading Harry Potter again, haven’t you?”

“Of course not!”

Steve kept taking his eyes off the road to _look_ at him and it really was for their own safety that Tony quietly admitted, “Audiobooks.”

Steve snorted.

“ _God_ this is slow-going,” Tony muttered. “Where did you even learn to drive anyway? You’re a New Yorker down to the bone.”

“So are you,” Steve responded mildly, tapping his fingers on the wheel.

“Yeah but I spent lots of time upstate. And in California. _And_ on race tracks.”

“Not sure if you knew this about me but I spent a decent amount of time in Europe myself. Even drove a couple of tanks here and there.”

“Right. Huh. If I’d realized I would’ve brought one of the stick shifts.”

Steve shrugged. “This is fine.” He let his head fall back against the headrest. “It’s relaxing, to just cruise with one pedal.”

“I wouldn’t call this slow crawl ‘cruising’. Come on, can’t we at least go up to the speed limit?”

“60 _is_ the speed limit, Tony.”

“Yeah but everyone knows that 60 means 70. Look at all those other cars shooting past us!”

Steve slid his hands down to the bottom of the wheel, humming lightly. “What’s your rush anyway?” He grinned. “What is it they say? It isn’t the destination that matters, it’s the journey?”

Tony squinted at him. “Since when are you one for fortune cookie wisdom?”

Steve shrugged. “It just seems like everything’s been so hectic lately. Just non-stop alerts and attacks and injuries.” His voice cracked a little and he swallowed. He shot a quick glance at the side mirror and flicked his signal on, moving them smoothly into the next lane. “Everything’s always moving so fast. It’s kind of nice to be able to just, I dunno,” he lightened the pressure on the gas, “take a breath and slow it down.” He rolled his head slightly, glancing sideways at Tony. “Don’t you think?”

Tony watched him silently for a moment, the sun streaming through the driver’s side window and giving a glow to his profile. His heart squeezed a little at the easy twist up of his lips and the steady rise and fall of his broad chest. “Yeah,” he acquiesced, the word quiet. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

\--

Tony came awake with a gasp, jolted awake by the slam of a car door. He rubbed at both his eyes with the heels of his hands, sucking in a breath through a huge yawn. His door popped open.

“Sorry,” Steve said as Tony dropped his hands, peering blearily up at him through the car door opening. “Probably could’ve woken you more gently.”

Tony clambered out and stretched his arms up, interlacing his fingers over his head. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the sleep out of his eyes. “Where are we?” he asked, not seeing any noticeable landmarks. They were in a dimly lit parking lot, the light directly over their car giving off a low buzz as it blinked in and out intermittently. “And what time is it?”

“Just after 9,” Steve replied. He started walking away from the car, the crunch of the gravel under his feet jarringly loud in the desolate night air.

“And my first question?” Tony asked, trailing after him. He cracked his neck as he walked, first left, then right.

“You’ll see in a sec,” Steve threw back over his shoulder.

\--

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“What?” Steve said, palms open. “I thought you were getting a bit fed up after hours of quiet cruising, thought we should break up the monotony a little bit.”

“With Frisbee golf?!”

“With a little physical activity and friendly competition.”

“Steve! Your main weapon is a giant Frisbee!”

“Huh,” Steve said through a grin. “So it is.”

Tony glared at him.

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun.”

It was not fun. Steve sunk a hole-in-one every time while Tony barely managed to get the damn thing to fly straight.

“This thing doesn’t even follow the laws of physics!” he shouted after missing the net a fourth time.

Steve laughed. “You’re throwing it too hard. You need to be gentle and just let the follow-through do all the work. Here, I’ll show you.”

He shuffled forward until his chest was pressed against Tony’s back and wrapped his right hand around Tony’s wrist. His left hand landed squarely on Tony’s hip. Tony swallowed, glad that certain parts of his were out in front.

Steve tugged on Tony’s hand, pulling the disc back while holding the rest of Tony firmly in place with his grip on his hip. He slipped his hand up so it covered Tony’s entirely. “Okay,” Steve said, the breath of the word ghosting over Tony’s neck. Tony brutally suppressed the shudder that threatened to run through him. “It’s all in the snap of the wrist. You’re not throwing from anywhere but your wrist.” He tightened his grip on Tony’s hip. “No thrusting from here.”

“But that’s my specialty,” Tony said, grinning when Steve coughed lightly.

“Right,” Steve said. Tony felt his body heave with a deep breath, almost as if the man was steeling himself for something. “As much as I’d love to see that...” Tony’s eyes widened. “For now,” Steve plowed on, “we’re going to call this a no-thrusting zone.” He tightened his grip on Tony’s hand. “Ready?”

“Er--”

Steve snapped their wrists. “Release!”

Tony obediently loosened his hold on the disc. It sailed beautifully straight, sinking neatly into the basket a few feet in front of them.

“Wow.” Tony blinked. Then, to his deep, deep sorrow, Steve stepped back, releasing his hold on him.

“Nice job!”

Unfortunately enough, Tony was a fast learner and Steve was a good teacher. They made it through the rest of the course much more quickly now that Tony had the basics down and when Tony managed to sink his own hole-in-one at the last hole Steve threw up his hands and cheered.

“Alright,” Tony said. “That’s enough sports for me. I saw we go out on a high note and get some grub, I’m starving.”

Right on cue, Steve’s stomach added its own soundtrack to the soft crickets of the night. “Guess I am too,” he said through a grin. “I think I saw a diner just off the exit. Looked like a decent enough motel too, we might as well turn in for the night and get back on the road in the morning, we’re making good time.”

A night together in a motel with Steve. Tony supposed there were worse things.

\--

Steve wrinkled his nose. “How do you drink four cups of that and _still_ manage to sleep?”

“I’m a wonder,” Tony shot back over the top of the mug.

Steve laughed, gaze warm. “That you are, Tony. That you are.”

Tony took a deep gulp of the coffee, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. When he lowered the mug again Steve’s eyes had dropped, his attention on the straw wrapper he’d been winding around his fingers.

Tony put the mug down, pushing it and his plate away and folded his arms across the table. Steve had been letting his hair grow long, or maybe it was just that he hadn’t slicked it back with any product today since he knew they would be doing nothing but driving. Either way, Tony kind of liked how it looked, flopping slightly down over one eyebrow. With his head angled down like that it seemed to afford Steve the kind of privacy he wasn’t usually allowed as a known idol and hero.

Steve glanced up then, the small hairs at the end of his fringe flicking back with the movement. “What?” he said, fingers abandoning the crumpled paper.

Tony propped his chin on one hand. “Nothing,” he replied with a small smile.

Steve smiled back, moving his own hand up to mirror his position. “I’m glad we took this trip,” he said, the words half-swallowed by the palm under his chin. Or maybe that was just the way Steve had released them, too full and boneless right now to enunciate in his usual Captain style. Tony was enjoying this side of him, limbs loose and eyes half-lidded under the late-night fluorescents. He sort of wanted to keep him here forever - relaxed and quiet and just for him.

“Yeah,” he replied, “me too.”

\--

“Two rooms?”

They glanced at each other. “I think one will be fine,” Steve said.

The man handed them two keycards and directed them to a staircase around the corner.

The room was serviceable enough, clean with two full beds half a foot apart from each other. At the end of one was a small TV propped atop a mini-fridge.

Steve dropped his duffel just inside the door and Tony rolled his suitcase to a stop beside it.

“You can have the bathroom first,” Tony said. Steve nodded. He dropped into a squat by his bag and rummaged through it. Tony propped his up on the bed and unzipped it, digging through for his toothbrush.

He took out his pyjamas and clothes for tomorrow and wheeled his bag into the corner, then flopped onto the bed and flipped on the TV.

Steve emerged a couple minutes later, dressed in dark blue pajama pants and a white tank. Tony allowed himself one long look while Steve was distracted, then bounded to his feet for the bathroom as soon as Steve caught his eye.

When he came out again Steve was already under the covers, reading a book by the dim light of his small bedside lamp.

Steve took one look at him and snorted, long and loud.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Steve laughed, shaking his head.

Tony looked down at himself. He did have to admit that the monogrammed silk red pyjamas were a little ostentatious, not to mention cliché.

“I usually sleep in the nude but didn’t think it’d be the best idea in this place.”

Despite the dim light, Tony could see the flush rising high on Steve’s cheeks but to his credit he just nodded. “Seems like the right instinct.”

Tony flipped the covers back and climbed into bed. He noticed idly that Steve hadn’t turned the TV off, probably thinking it’d be impolite. Tony clicked it off and tossed the remote onto the small night table.

“Goodnight,” he called, snuggling down and tugging the covers up over his shoulders.

“Night,” Steve replied, not taking his eyes off his reading.

The light clicked off a few minutes later and Steve’s breathing evened out soon after.

Listening to the steady in and out, Tony surprisingly found himself starting to drift off moments later.

\--

Tony woke up to an empty room.

His eyes landed on a neatly folded scrap of paper on the small nightstand. He picked it up and blinked into focus. It seemed to be a note scrawled on a piece of motel stationery.

_Gone for breakfast, back soon_

He tossed it back on the table and climbed out of bed to get ready, with no idea how long ago 'soon' had started.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom, hair damp but dressed for the day, Steve was just pushing through the room door.

He held up a paper bag. “Got us a couple of croissants.”

Tony gasped, one hand splayed across his chest theatrically.

“Don’t worry,” Steve said through a grin, “coffee’s in the car.” He shook his head. “You drama queen.”

Tony didn’t have enough fuel yet to combat that statement and settled on grunting indignantly while gathering up his things.

“So, my turn to drive?” he said as he pulled the room door shut behind him.

“Mmm,” Steve hummed, tapping a finger on his chin, “nah.” He bounded the stairs, duffel in hand.

“What!” Tony yelped after him and gave chase. He dragged his suitcase behind him, letting it bang down the pebbled steps. “What do you mean ‘nah’? You can’t just ‘nah’ me!”

“‘s funny,” Steve said, popping the trunk, “think I just did.” He threw his duffel in and disappeared around the side.

Tony pulled to a stop, spluttering.

“Here.”

Tony looked down only to find a large cardboard cup pressed against his chest. He wrapped his left hand around it instinctively while his right hand was tugged away from the luggage handle.

He brought the cup to his lips and tipped it back, vaguely aware of the thunking noises of things being loaded and trunks being shut but only resurfacing when the cup was half-empty.

Steve was gaping at him.

“Wasn’t it hot?”

Tony pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Yeth,” he lisped, “now that you menthon it, it wath.” He swiped a hand across his lips and took another sip. “Ow, fuck.”

“There is something seriously wrong with you,” Steve said as he opened the driver’s seat door.

“And don’t I know it,” Tony called across the top of the car, circling to his own side. He downed the rest of the coffee and tossed it in a nearby trash can before climbing into the passenger’s seat.

Steve was tapping away at the touch screen.

“We’re about 6 hours out,” he said as Tony buckled in.

“Is that in regular time or Steve driving time?”

“Hilarious,” Steve said, throwing a hand over the back of Tony’s seat so he could turn to back out. He craned his neck, pausing as he met Tony’s gaze on the way to looking out the back. They stared at each other a moment. Tony had the absurd thought that this would be a great way for a teenager to make a move.

“You know there’s a rearview camera right?” he said instead.

Steve rolled his eyes, breaking their eye contact. He twisted around further as the car started moving.

“What’s wrong with a camera?” Tony asked indignantly. “It’s safe!”

“Safer then looking with your actual eyes?”

“Oh my god, not this again.”

“Not what again? I’m just saying, you can’t always rely on the machine to do everything for you.” He met Tony’s eye again. “Sometimes you just need to trust your own--”

_Beep beep beeeeeeeep!_

Steve slammed on the brakes instinctively at the warning. A moment later, a small child appeared in the side-view mirror.

Steve stared ahead, breathing hard.

“What’s that you were saying?”

Steve shot him a glare. “Really? You’re really going to gloat now?”

“Hey, my way just saved you from running over a three-year-old.” He folded his hands behind his neck and leaned back. “I’d say that’s a pretty good time to gloat, if any.”

“You know what?” Steve said, throwing the car into Park. “You drive.”

Tony sat up. “Really?”

Steve just opened the door and climbed out of the car.

“Alright!” Tony cheered.

\--

“Tony!”

“Hmm?”

“You’re doing it again.”

“What am I doing?”

“Writing schematics in your head instead of focusing on the road.”

Tony spared him a glance.

“And how can you possibly know what’s going on in my head?”

“You’re right,” Steve intoned. “Nobody could possibly even begin to guess what goes in that misshapen skull of yours.” Steve plucked Tony’s wandering right hand out of the air. “But you’re writing equations with your hand! Didn’t anyone ever teach you about 10 and 2?”

“What’s that, the inches on my dick versus yours?”

“Wow. Really?”

Tony risked another look sideways, grinning at Steve’s deadpan expression. He didn’t comment on the fact that Steve still had his hand. Instead, he let gravity pull their entwined hands downwards, resting them between the two seats. When he looked over at Steve again the other man was looking straight ahead, a small smile on his face. They sat like that for the next few miles, nothing but the soft sounds of the radio between them.

God, they were such teenagers.

\--

Enough was enough, Tony decided. Besides, his hand was getting clammy and it wouldn’t do to let Rogers see that he sweat like a mere mortal. He pulled his hand back and used it to help guide the car off the next exit.

“Need gas,” Tony said at Steve’s questioning look.

Steve politely didn’t comment on the gauge reading otherwise. Someone had definitely raised him right, Tony thought to himself.

They pulled into the gas station and both climbed out, stretching.

“Want anything?” Steve said, tipping his head at the small shop at the back of the gas station.

“Surprise me.”

Steve grinned, his eyes gleaming, and Tony’s heart jumped just a little.

He busied himself with filling the tank. Once it was going, he leaned against the back of the car and looked around in wonder at just how truly in the middle of nowhere they were. There wasn’t even another single vehicle at the station, nor any passing by on the dusty road beside. Nothing in his vision but brown dirt.

And now a big blond head.

“Got you something,” Steve said holding a small package out towards him, the plastic wrap crinkling.

Tony looked down at it skeptically. “What is it?”

“It’s a Twinkie,” Steve replied, taking the bag back and pulling it open. “You’ve never had a Twinkie?” Steve pulled one of the two cakes out and handed it to him.

“Not this kind,” Tony quipped, accepting it. He sniffed at it suspiciously.

“Ah,” Steve said, biting into his. He chewed through the bite and swallowed quickly. “I think you’re thinking of a twink.”

Tony gaped at him as he took another big bite, polishing the rest of his cake off.

“You know, these used to be banana flavored before the war,” Steve commented idly, seemingly oblivious to Tony’s state of shock. He tossed the wrapper in the small trash behind him and swiped his hands against each other to shed any last crumbs. “I guess rationing did away with that. You gonna eat yours?”

Tony took a small experimental nibble, trying to ignore the newfound knowledge that Steve Rogers apparently knew what a twink was.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that to get to the cream in the middle.”

He tamped down the urge to make a dirty joke and obediently took a bigger bite while Steve bustled around, removing the pump from the gas tank and closing it up.

“How is it?”

Tony just pulled a face.

Steve laughed. “Yeah, might be an acquired taste.” He plucked the rest of the Twinkie out of Tony’s loose grip and tossed it into his mouth.

Tony leaned an elbow on the trunk, watching him chew. It should have been a disgusting sight, it really should have, but there was a small bit of cream left on the corner of his soft, pink lips and there was a glow of happiness radiating off his skin and all Tony could do was stare.

“What?” Steve asked, swallowing the last of it down.

“You got a little…” He pointed vaguely in the direction of his own lips.

Steve stuck the tip of his tongue out, searching at the corner and Tony found himself licking his own lips. “Did I get it?”

Tony shook his head. Steve stepped towards him, closing the gap between them. “Where is it? Can you get it for me?”

“Er...” Tony lifted a hand slowly towards Steve’s mouth. He poked a finger out cautiously towards his lips, feeling Steve’s eyes heavy on him as he swiped at the offending cream. And then he froze, finger in the air between them and a tiny dab sitting on the end. Steve found his gaze and bent forward and with eyes locked on his, carefully wrapped his mouth around Tony’s finger, tongue flicking out to lap up every trace of cream there might ever have been. Tony just stared, eyes wide.

He pulled his mouth off Tony’s finger with a small pop and licked his lips.

“You know,” Tony said, eyes dropping to Steve’s mouth again. “I think I might like to give that Twinkie another try.”

“Yeah?” Steve grunted softly. “Here, let me help you.” And he leaned forward, closing the gap between them until their lips met.

\--

“We really should go, the kid’s parents will be expecting us.”

“They tried to throw her out of the house twice, they can wait a couple of minutes.”

“That’s not exactl--mprgh...mmm.” Apparently silencing Steve with his mouth was an effective method 100% of the time. Tony stored that knowledge away for later use.

“So,” Steve said as they pulled back for air, “about that specialty of yours...”

Tony grinned.


End file.
